


A Savage Love

by pearconfident



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearconfident/pseuds/pearconfident
Summary: A woman muses on the love she feels for Count Dracula (BBC 2020) as she is woken by him in their bed.
Relationships: Dracula/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	A Savage Love

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a little drabble I wrote about what a woman in love with Dracula might think and feel towards him. A little fluff but mostly introspection.

I stretched out in bed, savoring in the feeling of the cool silk against my skin. I had been hesitant about the silk sheets when I first saw them; I thought they might've been too grandiose. But just like with everything else, he smoothly convinced me of their worth. 

I felt a cold finger graze down my back, over my spine, cooling me even more than the sheets had. I smiled and hummed in response, unwilling to open my eyes just yet. I wanted to feel his touch, focus on it, memorize it.

"Darling," I heard his smooth baritone voice call to me from his side of the bed; it was like a wave of tranquillity.

"Yes?" I asked, rolling over to face him. Opening my eyes and drinking in the sight of him lying lazily in our bed. His hair was almost perfect, sans the few strands that fell upon his forehead. The sheets were bunched around his waist, leaving the bare expanse of his chest free for me to rake across with my eyes. Taking in the sight of his firm hair-covered chest was a pleasure I knew would never lose its allure.

"I missed you," He murmured, a hand snaking around my waist to pull me into his arms.

"I was only asleep," I taunted him, breathing in his bold scent. It was leather, vanilla, musk, with a hint of blood. It was intoxicating, a testament to his appeal and the danger he exuded.

He only hummed in response; we both knew he was inexplicably attached to me. And despite my mortality, he seemed to enjoy my company. He was even going so far as to abstain from drinking my blood. 

"I love the way it feels when you touch me," I mused, and I knew he was smiling before I saw it.

"You are so unique," He told me, watching me like I was a miracle. 

"Why is that?" I asked him, running my fingers through the dark hair covering his chest. 

"So at home in the arms of a predator, enjoying the feeling of my cold, lifeless skin." He said as he kissed my hairline. 

"I like that you're a predator," I told him, "It makes these moments taste even sweeter." 

"I've never been accused of being sweet." His voice rumbled from his chest, and I could feel the vibrations of it through the tips of my fingers.

"I'll keep your secret," I promised with a kiss to his chest.

He smiled and pulled me even tighter to him. Being held by him was a unique experience to anything I'd ever felt before. He lacked warmth, lacked a heartbeat, yet it was the most real intimacy I'd ever known. The feel of his cold skin chilling me from the outside in was intoxicating, the smell of him overwhelming. I found that the scent of blood that accompanied him everywhere was just as alluring as the rest, a fact that took my breath away in an unwelcome manner. I had once professed to be brave,  _ good _ , yet here I was relishing in the arms of a murderer, intoxicated by the smell of blood that clung to his skin. I could not explain it, and no one but he could ever understand it. He was my home, my haven. I hadn't been lying when I told him that the danger he presented, the brutality of which he was capable, made his tenderness with me even sweeter. I could never find the understanding I had found with him anywhere else. I could never find a touch so tantalizing, a man so addicting.

Thus, I burrowed my head further into the chest of someone whom many would call a  _ monster _ , and I relished in the feeling of it. Knowing that I loved him, and he  _ cherished _ me. I would never be afraid again. Because the most dangerous thing that lurked in the dark slept in my bed, held me close, whispered declarations of love into my ears, and would do  _ anything _ I asked him. It was a kind of power I had never known I'd needed until I'd had it; he made me  _ powerful _ . And in return, I allowed him the sanctuary of humanity, the ability to be weak, the gift of being loved not despite of his imperfections but including them. 

I loved his jagged teeth, the way his eyes went crimson at the scent of blood. I loved his claws and how they could tear me apart if he willed them too. I loved the smell of blood on him when he returned from the dark corners he frequented. 

And he  _ relished  _ in that fact; he  _ enjoyed _ my obsession with his darkest parts. He had never been so entirely accepted. I knew I could never change who he was, what he was, but I would be damned if I were condemned to a life without him. 

"Come, darling," He said, rousing me from my thoughts, "The suns just set, and I have something I wish to show you." 

I only smiled as I climbed from our bed, wondering what surprises Dracula had for me this evening, what special moments we would share under the moonlight. 


End file.
